


The Boy With a Storm in His Brain: The Rewrite

by bibliosoph



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, F/F, Family, Hardships, Love, M/M, Rewrite, Sad, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliosoph/pseuds/bibliosoph
Summary: There's a list hanging on their fridge, held there by an Austin magnet. It's their plan for the next few years: Alex will finish law school and get a job while Henry works in the shelter and writes his book. They'll get engaged once Alex has a job lined up and then they'll be engaged for a little over a year while they plan the royal (and very gay, at Alex's instance) wedding. They'll be married for two years, living in pure bliss, before they start figuring out children. They know they want at least one––Henry thinks he might adopt one from the shelter if he can.So, yeah. They have a plan.The problem is, though, that Alex has a headache.You know where it goes.Hoping to update on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran
Comments: 58
Kudos: 186





	1. One (Alex)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, friends, to the story that never ends!  
> Here's a (hopefully better) version of _The Boy With a Storm in His Brain_.  
> As always, comments and kudos are lovely.  
> Also as always, you are all lovely. <3
> 
> come find me on tumblr @bibliothesoph

It still seems so impossible that _this_ is his life now. That, after everything that’s happened over the past year and more, he finally gets to wake up, turn, and see Henry’s beautiful face taking residence on the pillow beside him. It still seems impossible that, after everything with the Crown and Richards, that he and Henry get to live in this gorgeous brownstone together like they’re two totally normal people and not international figures. The bedroom has become a mixture of both of them: a photograph of Henry and his dad on Henry’s bedside table, a law textbook on Alex’s, a framed portrait of the two of them in Hyde park by the door, and a black and white photo of the Eiffel Tower above their bed. There’s a framed copy of Henry’s _Le Monde_ newspaper by the bathroom because Alex was unwilling to have it simply shoved into some drawer or another. The bookcase under the television is filled to the brim with classic literature, gay love letters, and Alex’s law books. It’s imperfect and messy and Alex wouldn’t have it any other way.

They have everything figured out, too. They’ve planned it by year––wrote it down and everything. Alex will finish law school while Henry works at the shelter and writes his book. Then, once Alex has a job lined up and after he’s passed the bar, they’ll get engaged. They want to be engaged for a little over a year, they think, just so they have the time to plan what is sure to be the biggest, gayest wedding of the twenty-first century. They’ll give themselves two years after marriage to start working on having kids––they know they want at least one. Henry thinks he might like to adopt one from the shelter. Alex thinks that that’s a lovely idea. And, just like that, their whole lives are planned out. Alex thrills at the thought of having such a concrete plan in place––a list on the fridge and held there by an Austin magnet. It’s finite and amazing because, no matter what, they’ll always have each other. And their list. 

On this particular morning, Alex is feeling the need to have a lie-in. His head hurts a bit from the excessive amounts of caffeine he’s been consuming in order to get through his mountains of homework for his first year of law school. So, since Henry doesn’t have to go into the shelter today, Alex is deeming this a lazy morning. It works out in his favor because Henry, his ridiculously beautiful boyfriend, will be leaving for two fucking weeks tomorrow. Alex knows that he’s going to miss him terribly––it’ll be the longest they’ve been apart since they moved in together. He’s dreading the fourteen nights alone so he plans on soaking up as much Henry as he can before then. FaceTime just isn’t the same as having Henry’s gorgeous fucking face right _here_.

“Morning,” Alex says, placing a sleepy kiss to Henry’s exposed cheek.

Henry grumbles and Alex’s heart flutters at the sound of it––he never realized how obsessed he’d be with Henry’s silly morning sounds. Every time he grumbles in the morning, Alex falls in love with him all over again. 

“I thought we could have a lazy day,” he says, running his fingers down Henry’s arm. 

They’re both naked––last night was a whirlwind of passion because it was the last true night they’ll spend together before Henry has to leave for London. At four in the morning tomorrow, Henry will have to get up and head out for his flight so he can make it in time for his first obligation of the trip. Alex is already dreading it. 

“Mm,” Henry hums, his blue eyes slowly opening at the promise of a lazy morning of tea, pastries, and _Bake-Off_. It’s their lazy morning tradition–– _Bake-Off_ in bed and nothing but treats for breakfast.

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Alex whispers, moving his hand to Henry’s face and cupping his jaw.

Henry shifts to face him, his sleepy eyes staring up at Alex and making his heart melt in his chest. “’S only for two weeks,” he mumbles.

“Two weeks is two weeks too long.”

Henry hums again and moves up to place a gentle kiss on Alex’s lips. When he pulls back, he wraps his arms around Alex and pulls him flush against his chest, planting kisses in his hair. “I positively _adore_ you,” Henry tells him earnestly, his voice still low and tired and raspy from sleep. “I wish you could come with me.”

“Same,” Alex admits. He sighs dramatically. “I wish my professors would let me leave.”

Henry kisses the tip of his nose. “Law school is important to you,” he reminds him. “I wouldn’t want you to miss anything to come to England.”

“I know,” Alex says. “I just…I’m gonna miss you, H. A lot.” 

“And I you,” Henry whispers, sealing it with another kiss. “Now, how about you go get the breakfast and I’ll get _Bake-Off_ set up, hm?” 

Alex grins, kisses him once more, slips on some boxers, then leaves to go get their breakfast ready. David follows him down the stairs, eager for breakfast as well, it seems. Alex smiles at the sight of the floppy-eared dog following him down the stairs––it’s another thing that he still can’t believe. It’s all just so domestic to him; they have a house and a dog together. They do chores together. They brush their teeth together. It’s the life he never really imagined for himself, especially when he thought that he would hit the ground running after college and go straight into politics. Even if he second-guesses his choice to become a lawyer instead, he knows that he could never regret it. This path––the home, the dog, the chores, the lazy mornings––is the life he never knew he wanted. It means everything to him, honestly, to be able to just _exist_ here in the brownstone with Henry next to him every morning and night and here to get into fights with him about _Star Wars_ character and which _Harry Potter_ characters are the gayest. He knows he would never choose a different life than the one he currently has––he wouldn’t trade the house and plan and the man of his dreams for anything in the entire fucking world.

After feeding David and getting breakfast together, he returns to their bedroom with a tray in his hands. His headache is still there but it goes away slightly when he sees Henry propped up on the pillows, his blue eyes more awake and lively now as he stares at the television, waiting to press play until Alex got up here. It’s so stupid and domestic and Alex finds his heart pounding in his chest at the sight of it––he loves this man with every single part of him.

“You okay?” Henry asks, raising a delicate eyebrow. 

Alex didn’t even realize he was staring. He clears his throat and feels his cheeks heat up as he steps towards the bed, depositing the tray on the sheets between their two sides of the bed. He sits on the other side and hands Henry his mug of tea––the stupid tea order that he’s committed to memory at this point. Henry beams and takes a sip of it, closing his eyes as the warm tea slides down his throat. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m going to miss this when I’m in England.” 

“Don’t y’all have servants or something to bring you breakfast in the mornings?” Alex asks with a glint in his eyes and a smirk across his face. 

Henry rolls his eyes and sets the cup down on his bedside table next to the framed picture of him and Arthur. “You know that’s not what I meant, Alex,” he huffs, still smiling. “But yes––I suppose they actually bring a much better spread than you do, actually. Maybe I’ll stay there for a bit longer than two weeks.” 

“Nooo,” Alex groans, his head flopping back into the pillow dramatically.

Henry rolls his eyes again and lifts his arm. It’s a silent invitation for Alex to come curl up by his side because Henry knows that it’s his favorite place to be. Alex grins as Henry’s arm comes around him, holding him there while they enjoy _Bake-Off_ , warm drinks, and pastries with David curled up at their feet. When Alex looks up and sees Henry focused intently on whatever’s happening on the screen, he can’t help but kiss his cheek and wonder how he ever got to be so lucky. 

They have a plan––they’re going to spend the rest of their now semi-normal lives together. 

And Alex could not be more excited.

Later that night, Alex suggests a _Star Wars_ marathon. Just the original trilogy––just so he can cuddle next to Henry on the couch and try to commit the feeling of Henry’s body pressed against his own to memory. He ignores his headache––doesn’t tell Henry because he doesn’t want to worry him. Instead, he drinks as much water as he can and kisses Henry softly every so often, just so he knows how much he’ll miss him. 

It’s two in the morning when Alex wakes up to the sound of the credit music rolling. 

“Darling,” Henry whispers, followed by a yawn. “I have to be up in two hours.” 

Alex rubs his eyes––his headache is still there. “Oh,” he says, “sorry. Let’s go to bed.” 

Henry nods and helps him up, wrapping an arm around his waist as they walk up the stairs together. When they get upstairs, Alex is too tired to do his nightly routine so he simply sheds his jeans and shirt and crawls into bed, waiting to go back to sleep until Henry appears next to him. As soon as Henry slides in bed, Alex moves to press up against him, holding him close and breathing in his scent. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he says, yawning as the exhaustion truly catches up to him. 

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Henry says, kissing the top of his hand. 

Alex hums. “Wake me up before you go?” 

“Not a chance in hell, darling. Now go to sleep.”

It’s the last thing Alex registers before sleep takes him again. He knows that, when he wakes up, Henry will be gone. 

_It’s just two weeks,_ he reminds himself as he drifts off with Henry warm and safe in his arms. _Just two weeks_.


	2. Two (Henry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is kind of short!
> 
> Hope you still like it, though. 
> 
> As always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr :)

When Henry pulls himself out of bed two hours later, Alex tries to keep him in bed. He’s still asleep––adorably so––but whimpers as Henry tries to get up, tugging Henry’s arm in an attempt to keep him here. It damn near breaks Henry’s heart to see, but he knows that he has to go. It’ll only be two weeks, he reminds himself, which is nothing compared to how long they used to go without seeing each other. It will be the longest they’ve been apart since they moved in together, though. Maybe, if Alex wasn’t overworking himself in law school, Henry wouldn’t feel so guilty for leaving him. He knows that Alex has been stressed about his big paper coming up and that he really only sleeps when Henry is in bed beside him.

But he has obligations in London that can’t be avoided. So, with a heavy heart, he grabs his already packed suitcase, puts David in his carrier, plants a kiss on Alex’s forehead, and leaves the house.

Shaan is waiting for him in the darkest of the early morning, standing tall in front of the black SUV parked in front of the house. “Good morning, sir,” he says, grabbing Henry’s suitcase and opening the trunk. It’s automatic now––all he has to do is tap his foot against the under-carriage. He sets the suitcase down in the trunk, closes it, and opens Henry’s door for him.

“Good morning, Shaan,” Henry replies, sliding into the back seat and setting David’s carrier down on the seat beside him. “Thank you for doing this––I know it’s terribly early.”

“No problem, sir.”

Henry hums as Shaan pulls away from the curb, the car lurching to life beneath them. “I’m excited to see Bea and Pez,” he admits, “though I’ll always loathe leaving Alex. I worry that he won’t take care of himself while I’m away.”

“Would you like me to ask Cash to keep an eye on him, sir?”

“No,” Henry sighs, shaking his head. “But thank you for the idea––I think I might see if June is up for the task.”

“Very well, sir.”

Henry looks out the window and watches the dark, sleeping city as it flies by his window. He always has a heavy heart when he leaves New York, even if Alex is in the seat beside him. The return to England reminds him of how much his life has changed over the last year and how much he adores the life that he and Alex have built together. Returning to England forces him to recall all of the lonely, miserable years he spent rotting away there––it forces him to confront all of those heart-breaking memories.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He retrieves it, wondering who could possibly be texting him at such a ridiculous hour of the morning.

**American Idiot ❤️**

why didnt u wake me up? i wanted to say

goodbye

I gave you a kiss before I left, darling.

I wanted you to get some much-needed

sleep, though I now realize it was foolish

for me to believe you’d actually sleep in.

**American Idiot ❤️**

i hate you

fly safe

Henry smiles to himself and tucks his phone back into his pocket, desperately wishing that Alex could be here with him. He knows that Alex has important studying and such to get done, but Henry also knows just how much he’s going to miss his foul-mouthed boyfriend while he’s away in England. Two weeks feels like a lifetime when you’re young and helplessly in love, he supposes. It also feels like it will last forever because he knows that, while they’re apart, Alex won’t take care of himself.

He pulls out his phone and texts June, asking her to check in with Alex and keep Henry updated. He puts the phone back into his pocket and sucks on his lip nervously, hoping that Alex will be okay without him. When Henry’s gone off on his own––though it’s never more than a few days––Alex is usually having a nice break from the studying and the constant grind of law school. Sometimes this is because it’s a weekend or a holiday, or sometimes it’s because he just had a big test so he can sit back and relax a bit before diving back in. Henry has never left Alex in the middle of such a strenuous time––this paper is going to be worth twenty-five percent in one of his hardest classes.

He falls asleep in the back of the car, thinking about Alex’s water intake compared to how much caffeine he’s consumed. He falls asleep wondering if, when he gets home, he’ll have to bring his boyfriend back from the brink of a caffeine and studying induced collapse.

When he wakes up, it’s because Shaan is gently shaking him awake. “We’re here, sir,” Shaan tells him.

Henry grumbles silently to himself and blinks awake, seeing that they’re at the airstrip. “Hm, thank you,” he says, stifled by a yawn. He rubs his eyes and retrieves David in his carrier and walks up the few stairs into the cabin of the jet. He sits down near the front, giving David his own seat, and stares out the window. He’s still tired but he doesn’t think he should go back to sleep, given how much further ahead London is. Instead, he pulls his laptop out of his bag and sets to work on an email.

**Henry** <henry@kensingtonemail.com>

to A

Alex,

What else could I possibly say except that I miss you? It’s true––I miss you terribly. Even though it’s been less than an hour since I last laid eyes on your beautiful face, marked so delicately with a thin trail of drool that ran from your mouth to the wet spot on the pillow, I ache to be back in your arms. England is always a grey, miserable place, but I fear that it will be even more grey and miserable without you by my side and there to make fun of the lavish bedclothes and curtains in my monstrosity of a bedroom.

Planes remind me of you. Not only because they’re fast and obsessed with the destination, but because of all of the time I spent on planes while on my way to see you. It’s funny to think that, just a few months ago, we were sanctioned to different parts of the earth. We had to manipulate the very air around us to be together––to allow us to take up the same space. I forget, sometimes, just how unbearable it was to be an entire ocean apart from you. I forgot it all so easily because your sleepy, glistening eyes, your morning grumbling, and your night-time cuddle moods have made me grown accustomed to always having you right there beside me; taking up the same space that I do. Here on this plane, I am reminded of how our lives used to be so different. How hard we had to try to see each other as much as our bodies––then, later, our hearts––demanded it.

I miss you terribly, darling. It is an undeniable fact that I have grown to accept morning lie-ins with you as a sort of custom. I’ve taken them for granted. Well, never again, my love. I’m sure that, after these two weeks, I shall not let you out of my arms for many days and nights. Your law professors will simply have to understand that I must have my fill of you after such a long, straining period of time without you. Perhaps I could use my position to persuade them, hm?

I hope you take care of yourself while I’m away. I know that you will ace this paper just like you’ve done with everything else in your life. If you ever need someone to proof-read it, though, just know that I’m only a phone call away.

Yours,

HRH Prince of Sappy Early Morning Emails


	3. Three

Alex’s paper is due soon and it’s worth twenty-five percent of his grade in one of his hardest classes. Honestly, he’s freaking out about it. Normally, Henry would be puttering around and refilling his coffee and making him take breaks, but Alex is all on his own this time. They’ve never been apart during one of Alex’s frantic study mode before and he’s scared to see how this all plays out without Henry by his side for the worst of it. Logically, he knows that he should drink some water and actually sleep for once but his brain won’t shut up until he gets this paper done and turned in. The only problem with that is that his head is pounding in his skull and the words on his screen look fuzzy and weird, even though he has his reading glasses on. He sighs and takes off his glasses for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe the pain shooting through his head right now.

It’s almost a relief when June shows up with a bag of Chinese food and makes him put the work away for a bit while they eat. She even cleans off the kitchen table for him, shoving his papers away for the time being. She sits him down, pours him a giant glass of ice-cold water, and tries to soothe his anxious mind with the promise of rice and dumplings. 

“What’s got you so stressed?” she asks before popping a dumpling into her mouth. 

Alex massages helplessly at his temples to try and alleviate the pain. He takes a sip of water and finds that it helps a bit. He takes another. “Big paper,” he mumbles. 

June frowns at him. “Does your head hurt?”

He nods helplessly. He’s so tired and his head hurts so much––the ridiculous amounts of Advil he’s taken over the past few days hasn’t helped at all. 

“Since when?” 

He shrugs, poking at his fried rice with one of his wooden chopsticks. He’s not that hungry, honestly, because his stomach is in nervous knots about the paper. He doesn’t think he could actually manage to keep any food down right now, even though the smell of the dumplings makes him want to try it anyway. “Since Henry left, I guess. Or the day before he left. I dunno.” 

_“Alex,”_ June sighs, setting her chopsticks down and folding her elbows up on the table, “you know that’s not good.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, glaring at her. “It’s just stress. It’ll pass as soon as I get the paper in.” 

“When’s it due?” 

“Tonight,” he sighs. 

Normally, he’d already have the paper done and turned in. He’s been working on it for over a week now and he still doesn’t feel like he has a great handle on the material or his thesis––he feels like it’s probably a jumble of random words that don’t make sense when put together. It’s the first assignment he hasn’t turned in early and the first assignment that he doesn’t feel at all confident with. The feeling is driving him insane because he’s always defined himself by his studies and his work ethic and now, if he doesn’t have that, what _does_ he have? A half-decent paper and a miserable headache? 

“If it still hurts tomorrow or if it gets worse, will you go to a doctor?” 

He’s rolling his eyes before she finishes talking. “June,” he groans, “I don’t need a doctor. I get headaches all the time, remember? They always come and go. I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t look at all convinced. “Just promise me, okay? I worry about you, you know.” 

Despite his frustration with her for making him feel like a child, he nods and agrees. He worries about her, too, so he gets it. Even if she never actually needs his help, he’ll always try his best to be there for her and to look out for her. It’s a lot easier now that she’s also made the move to New York, at least for now, and that they can be at each other’s apartments within minutes. Still, though, it feels a bit strange to not have her in a room down the hall or next door. He’s grown so accustomed to coming home after class and seeing her lounging on his bed or putting crystals in his sock drawer. 

“Promise,” he says, shooting her a smile. 

She smiles back and shoves another dumpling in her mouth which makes her cheeks get big and, just like that, they’re laughing together and it feels a bit like the good old days. 

He turns in his paper right before the deadline, still feeling like it’s not his best work but that it’ll have to do if he doesn’t want to get the late deduction. He’s about to close his laptop and try to watch some tv or something when the FaceTime ring starts playing. Squinting at the screen, he looks and sees that it’s Henry calling him. He smiles and tries to make himself look more relaxed and less visibly tired and strained, deciding to take off his glasses so it doesn’t look like he’s been working himself half to death for the past three days since Henry left. 

“Aw, Alex says as he accepts the call and sees Henry’s smiling face fill his screen, “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Nearly,” he smirks, “just give me a few more days and I won’t even remember your name.” 

“You’re an ass,” Alex says, grinning like an idiot. 

“I know,” Henry sighs, smiling back at him. “How are you, love? Hopefully taking care of yourself?” 

“June came over, actually. She brought Chinese.” 

“Oh, from that place around the corner? With the soup dumplings?” 

Alex nods. “Yup––your favorite. How’s stuff in jolly ol’ London, huh? Did you yell at Philip yet?” 

Henry chuckles at that. “I haven’t actually seen him yet, thank God. We’re going to have some big family dinner tomorrow though, I think. Mum’s arranged this whole thing.” 

“That sounds fun,” Alex says, leaning back in his chair. “At least you’ll be able to hang with Bea and your mom––I know you’ve missed them.” 

“Indeed,” Henry agrees. “Honestly, it’s been nice to be back and see everyone again. Pez keeps dragging me to bars and such because he thinks I’ve become boring.”

“You were always boring,” Alex interjects. 

Henry smiles at him and continues. “Anyway, it’s been nice. But I miss you terribly.”

“I miss you, too,” Alex agrees. 

FaceTime Henry is great but he absolutely doesn’t compare with the real Henry. Seeing Henry’s pixilated face just makes Alex miss him more because now he wants to kiss him since he’s right here but he can’t because he’s just on a screen. Maybe Alex should make a no FaceTime rule––it’s really just a cruel trick. He’d much rather have Henry here and in his arms.

“Your paper was due today, wasn’t it?” 

Alex nods. “Yeah. Got it on time.” 

Henry sighs in relief. “That’s fantastic. I know you were worried about it. Was it okay, do you think?” 

Alex shrugs. “Not my best work, but hopefully still readable. I’ll probably get a B plus or something. We’ll see tomorrow, I guess, since she’s the world’s fastest grader.”

“Let me know,” Henry requests, “so I can celebrate with you over FaceTime. Maybe I’ll even give you a bit of a, erm, show?” 

Alex feels his cheeks heat up with the implications. “Oo, could I get a little preview of that right now? Just a Lil something to get me through the day?” 

“You’re a menace,” Henry laughs, “and it’s nearly two in the morning here. I’d best go to bed––I’ve got meetings all day tomorrow then that lovely family dinner.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Alex groans, “but I’m getting my show tomorrow, you hear?” 

“Whatever you say, darling. Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Alex says. 

Henry flashes him a smile and then, just like that, he’s gone. 

Alex crawls into bed and turns on the tv, hoping that his body gets some rest even if he doesn’t actually sleep. He’ll sleep once he finds out what grade he got on the paper. Until then, he’ll stay up, watch _Bake-Off_ , and wish that Henry could be here to cuddle with him and soothe his racing mind. 

When he gets up the next morning, having slept for roughly two hours somewhere in his binge-watching, he checks his school email and finds that the professor has already graded his paper. With a thrumming heart and a nervous, dry throat, he clicks on the email and opens it to see his grade. He’s expecting a high B––that’s what he thinks his paper deserves. It’s not his best writing but he’s probably had worse essays before. A B is livable. A B minus will be annoying but manageable. 

It’s not in the B range at all. 

The grade sits there at the top of his screen, blinking menacingly at him. 

_F._

Fuck, he’s never gotten a failing grade on anything before. Even when his life was insane, he always managed to do well in school. This F is a reminder of his failure and how, even if he works his ass off, he’s still not fucking good enough. And he really tried for this paper, too, which makes it that much worse. It wasn’t something he half-assed and turned in––he basically tortured himself for this fucking paper. He groans and throws his phone into the blankets on the bed, deciding that he needs to do something to remedy this. Maybe he’ll call his teacher or see if she’ll let him rewrite it. Either way, the grade doesn’t take the headache or nausea away––it makes them both exponentially worse. 

He’ll worry about the rewrite later. For now, he tries to focus on his breathing and not throw up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's slow and short, but we're getting somewhere!
> 
> As always, I'm @bibliothesoph on tumblr.
> 
> P.S. I just got a tattoo and it makes writing HURT oh well the things we do for fic


	4. Four (Henry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warning for philip being his usual asshole (homophobic and holier than thou) self

There are actually a few things that Henry enjoys doing when he returns to England: seeing his mum, seeing Bea, seeing Pez, and visiting the V&A. Family dinners, however, certainly don’t make this list. They would, maybe, if they didn’t involve Philip (though he’s at least grateful that they don’t involve Mary) but this one, at least, means that Henry will have to sit through a formal dinner under his brother’s scrutinizing gaze. When he’s come back and had these sorts of things before, he’s had Alex by his side. These dinners are much more bearable with Alex’s hand squeezing his knee under the table or lacing their fingers together when Philip says something untoward. This time, he’s completely on his own. Bea and his mum will be there, of course, but it’s not the same as having Alex’s comforting presence seated directly next to him and within arm’s reach.

Still, though, he has to go. This is his mum’s way of making an effort and he wants to support her, even if he’s sure it will be awkward and uncomfortable a majority of the time.

He has enough time to reply to June––who’s texted to tell him that Alex has a headache that thinks might be worse than he’s letting on––before Bea knocks on his door and walks to the dining room with him, clearly trying to calm him by asking him questions about Alex and New York while they walk. He tries to listen and answer to soothe his mind and it works a bit until they enter the dining room and see Philip already seated at the table. Martha won’t be joining them tonight––his mum wanted it to be small and intimate. Just her and her children. Henry never thought he’d think this, but he wishes that Martha were here to ease this awkward dinner. She’s been exceedingly kind to him, despite the cake incident that occurred at her wedding. 

As soon as they enter, their mum comes over and wraps them in massive hugs, though she spends a considerable amount of time hugging Henry because they haven’t seen each other in a little over a month. He allows himself to melt into her embrace and throw his arms around her, happy to see her out of her rooms and extremely present. It’s not quite surprising anymore, of course, but it still makes him smile.

Things go south when they sit down to dinner, of course, as they always do. The beginning is actually quite pleasant, strangely, as his family asks what he’s been up to and how he’s liking New York. They ask about the shelter and he’s more than happy to fill them in on the progress they’re making and the children that they have there at the moment, but when Bea asks about Alex and how things are going with that, Henry sees Philip’s hand tighten around his fork.

“Ah, yes,” Philip says, his face a bit red and his hand still tight around the silver fork in his grasp, “how is the boy toy?” 

Henry closes his eyes, expecting to feel Alex’s sure hand on his knee, but then he remembers that Alex isn’t with him this time and that he has to do this all on his own. He takes a steadying breath and tries to control his tone––he doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Alex is great,” he says, side-stepping Philip’s word choice, “thank you.”

“How’s he liking law school?” his mum asks before taking a sip of her wine. 

“He’s a bit stressed,” Henry admits, “but, as always, he’s working hard. I have no doubt that he’ll make an incredible lawyer one day.”

Philip huffs from across the table and Henry sees Bea shoot him a nasty glare. He wants to tell her that he’s not worth the energy, but then she opens her mouth. 

“Care to share your thoughts, Pip?”

Philip’s hand clenches and then unclenches around the fork. “I’m just a bit surprised,” he says, “that you two are still playing house.”

Henry’s breath catches in his throat––it feels like he can’t get any air. “ _Pardon_?” His fists clench by his sides. He wishes, once again, that Alex were by his side. 

“I just thought you two would have called it quits by now,” Philip offers. 

“Philip––” Catherine warns. 

Philip holds his hands up in surrender. “I meant no ill will. I was just stating my opinion.” 

“Well,” Bea huffs, “your _opinion_ happens to make you sound like a proper arse.”

“ _Bea_ ,” Henry mumbles, praying that she’ll stop talking and that they can just go about this dinner in awkward silence.

“No, don’t get all quiet and petulant. If you have thoughts, I’d like to hear them,” Philip tells him, sitting back in his chair a bit like that makes him some sort of active listener. 

Henry takes a grounding breath. “We’re not playing house,” he says, trying to keep his voice calm and level. “We’re living together. Permanently.”

Philip laughs. “Permanently? Honestly, Henry, what’s your plan here? Get married at Westminster? Adopt children from another country?”

Henry’s fists slam down on the table––he can’t help it. “We’re planning on living our lives just as every other married couple does, Philip. And, frankly, I’ve had about enough of your homophobic comments and––”

“Henry,” Philip argues, “I don’t have a homophobic bone in my body. If you misinterpret what I’m saying, perhaps you should just stop being so dramatic.”

With a near-impossible speed, Henry slides his chair back and stands, his fists still on the table––clenched and angry. “I’m quite finished with dinner,” he announces. “Philip, for Christ’s sake, get your head out of your arse and grow up.” 

With that, he leaves.

He doesn’t even know what to feel about that dinner, but his hands are shaking by the time he gets back to his room. It felt good, he supposes, to sort of tell Philip off, but it feels worse knowing that his brother still isn’t improving. There was a time, in the beginning, when he thought that Philip might have been becoming a decent person. Needless to say, he doesn’t think that anymore. What he thinks right now is that Philip is a preening arse who needs someone to violently smash some sense and decency into his head. What he’s thinking is that when Philip inevitably becomes King, Henry will never be able to come to London without feeling anger rise up in him. He has some semblance of hope, deep down, that Philip will improve. He doesn’t like to think that people are completely incapable of change––he’s seen himself change enough to know that people are capable of bettering themselves. He just wishes he had a way to make Philip _better_. Sometimes, it seems impossible that they come from the same parents and grew up in very similar ways. 

Right now, though, he’s just angry. He tugs his jacket and tie off and throws them both on the terrible bedspread. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, lies on the bed, and FaceTimes Alex. David jumps up next to him, burrowing into his side while the phone rings.

Alex’s semi-pixelated face appears and it makes Henry’s heart feel ten times lighter than it did a few moments ago. It’s amazing that Alex still has this effect on him––he hopes it never goes away. 

“Hi, love,” he grins, unable to control himself.

Alex’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “What’s up?” 

June’s warning echoes in his mind––something’s wrong with Alex. Still, though, shouldn’t Alex be happy to see him? He made such a fuss about Henry leaving in the beginning, so shouldn’t he ache for Henry like Henry aches for him?

“Oh, you know,” Henry sighs, stroking David’s silky ears, “just came from the worst family dinner. What about you?” 

Alex looks off to the side for a moment. From the looks of it, he’s in the office on the first floor. Henry frowns at the sight of it, wondering what Alex could possible be doing in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday. His big paper should already have been turned in and he should have some time to relax. It brings him back to June’s concerns and makes him furrow his brow. 

“What?” Alex asks, looking at his concerned expression. 

“Nothing,” he replies. “I miss you, that’s all.” 

“You’ll be home soon,” Alex says, still looking distracted. 

Henry tries to remind himself that Alex just has a lot going on and that it’s not Henry’s fault he’s being so rude and snappy, but something seems off. It’s more than Alex’s usually stress––something seems very wrong. It doesn’t seem like Alex at all, honestly.

“You missed me calling Philip out for being a homophobic arsehole,” Henry says, thinking that this comment might snap Alex back into reality. 

“Nice,” Alex mumbles, still looking offscreen.

Henry clears his throat and continues. “He said he doesn’t have a homophobic bone in his body which, as we both know, is completely wrong. You should have heard him tonight.” He sighs. “Still, though, I hope he can be better. Believe me, if he’s still a prick when he has children, we’ll take them to New York and raise them for him. Maybe they’ll be the ones to teach him a shred of decency one day.” He laughs at his stupid joke, expecting Alex to say something to that, but he doesn’t. Not really. 

“He’s an ass,” Alex shrugs. “You already knew that.” 

Henry frowns. “Is everything okay, Alex? You don’t seem quite like yourself. Is it your head? Has it gotten worse?” 

Alex’s eyes flash in the dim lighting. “Fuck you,” he growls. “Who even––” He chuckles heartlessly. “It was June, wasn’t it?” He shakes his head. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Henry.”

Henry feels guilt churn in his stomach. He really doesn’t recognize the man on the other end of this call––the headache must be unbearable. He’s trying not to take it personally but it’s hard when Alex’s eyes are still angrier than Henry has ever seen them. He swallows nervously. “I just worry about you,” he admits. “It more for my own peace of mind than the fact that you need a babysitter.” It’s not the truth, of course, but Alex doesn’t need to know that. 

“Whatever,” Alex huffs. “I gotta go. Bye.” 

Before Henry even has the chance to tell Alex that he loves him, Alex is gone.

Henry stares down at his phone in disbelief in a moment before he rolls up his sleeves and texts June. He tells her what happened on the call and begs her to go check-in on Alex again. If he was worried before, he’s terrified now. He’s never seen Alex in such a snit, even when he’s had every right to get mad about something. Even when they fight––which is rare––Alex doesn’t get as angry as he just did on that call. It makes Henry sure that there’s something wrong which, of course, makes the guilt triple since he can’t actually be there to make sure Alex is taking care of himself. 

June replies and says she’ll go over for dinner. Henry thanks her profusely and tucks his phone under his pillow, deciding that the best way to detox after this terrible evening is to watch _Bake-Off_ and cuddle with David. Alex will be fine. June will go check on him. Everything will be fine. 

Then why does it feel like everything’s about to change? 


	5. Five (Alex)

Alex has been trying to draft an email to his professor for the past hour. It shouldn’t be this difficult––it’s never _been_ this difficult. But the letters on the screen are fuzzy and impossible to read and his stomach is churning. He takes off his glasses for a moment, leans back, and takes a deep breath in an attempt to ground himself. Somewhere in the mess on his desk, his phone lights up and starts buzzing. Groaning, he shuffles through the clutter until he finds it. He rolls his eyes when he sees that it’s June calling but he answers it anyway. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he huffs as a greeting.

“Don’t care,” June replies, sounding a bit annoyed, “you’re getting one. Can you just let me in? I’ve been out here for, like, five minutes.” 

He frowns. “Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?” 

“I did. Please, Alex. I’m freezing.” 

“Coming.” 

He hangs up. It’s weird that he didn’t hear the doorbell ring. It’s not like it’s super quiet, either––they wanted to be able to hear it from anywhere in the house. It’s never been an issue before so he has no idea how he missed it. He gets up to let June in but has to brace himself on the desk for a moment. His head is swimming with the sudden action. 

After a moment, he feels well enough to go downstairs to let her in, but he has to hold onto the railing for dear life as he makes his way down the wooden nstairs. When he gets to the first floor, he sees June on the other side of the door with a plastic bag in one hand and her phone in the other. Alex unlocks and opens the door, stepping back to let her in. She grins when she enters, closing the door behind her. She shifts her attention to Alex and frowns instantly. 

“ _Alex_ ,” she gasps, eyes wide and terrified, “you look terrible.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Bug. Come all the way here just to tell me that?” 

“No, I also brought tacos,” she says, holding up the bag. “Seriously, though, how do you feel?” 

“I’m––” he starts to answer, expecting to tell her that he’s fine. But bile creeps up his throat and his head is pounding in his skull. Desperately, he pushes June aside and sprints to the bathroom, making it in just enough time to empty his stomach into the toilet. He groans and rests his head on the seat, feeling worse now. His stomach is still churning and his head is still spinning. 

“Alex,” June gasps, now in the doorway behind him, “you need to go to the hospital.” 

He shakes his head––his curls stick to his forehead from the sweat. June’s hands are featherlight on his back as she delicately rubs circles there to calm him, just like their mom did when they were little. 

“I’m sorry,” she coos, “but you _have_ to go to the hospital. I’ll call Cash, okay?” 

He nods weakly. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing while June explains everything to Cash. He only opens his eyes when Cash comes in, flushes the toilet, and helps Alex to his feet to guide him out to the SUV waiting outside. He helps Alex in and then June climbs in next to him, her phone out and her finger hovering over the “call” button on Henry’s contact. 

He puts a hand on her knee, shaking his head. “Please,” he croaks, his voice hoarse from throwing up, “I don’t want to worry him.” 

“But––”

He shakes his head again and then closes his eyes as another wave of nausea rolls through. His head presses into the seat. “I’ll call him,” he promises, “once we know what’s going on.” 

As soon as they arrive, they’re taken to a private room where doctors and nurses come in to ask questions and run tests. An hour later, a doctor comes in to let them know what’s going on. Alex is tired and miserable and more than ready to just get the fuck out of here. 

“It seems like a migraine,” the doctor explains, looking down at her clipboard. 

Alex and June frown at each other. He’s gotten migraines before but they’ve never been like _this_ ––he usually gets a bad headache and his extremely light and sound sensitive. They’ve never gone on for this long, either. And he’s never thrown up from one. It doesn’t seem right––his mind is screaming at him and saying that it’s wrong, but he’s too tired to argue. 

“Are you sure?” June asks. 

The doctor nods and hands her a slip of paper. “Positive. Here’s a prescription that should help next time. Once you finish that bag,” she says, gesturing to the drip, “you’re free to go.”

As soon as she leaves, June shoots Alex a knowing look. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I know. Pass me my phone?” 

June hands him his phone and leaves the room to give him some privacy. With a shaky breath, he pulls up Henry’s contact, “HRH Prince Dickhead  💩 .” He presses “call” before he can talk himself out of it. 

Henry picks up on the second ring. “Hi, love,” he says.

Alex shifts a bit, uncomfortable and nervous. “Hi,” he says. “I have to tell you something but don’t freak out, okay?” 

He can practically _hear_ Henry’s jaw clench through the phone. “Alright.” 

Alex takes a deep breath. “So, um, I’m in the hospital.” 

“ _What_?” Henry nearly yells, his voice high-pitched and panicked. “Alex, Christ, what happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Alex argues, even though his head is still pounding. “They said it was just a migraine. I’ll be better soon. I just wanted to let you know.” 

It’s silent for a moment. “I’ll be there in ten hours,” Henry said, clearly having made up his mind. 

“What? No. H––You’re not coming home just because I have a headache. Don’t you have meetings?” 

“They’re not important,” Henry argues, stubborn as ever. There’s a shuffling sound––he must already be packing. “I’m coming back to look after you and I won’t hear a word against it.” 

“H––”

“Darling, I adore you, but you really are a complete _idiot_ if you think I won’t come home to take care of you. I’ll see you in ten hours––I love you.” 

Before Alex has the chance to argue, Henry hangs up. He huffs and sets his phone down, crossing his arms like a petulant child. When he checks the drip, it’s nearly empty but he doesn’t feel any better. He hopes those fucking migraine pills work, even though he’s fairly positive that this isn’t a migraine at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it! sorry it was short––we're getting to the big stuff soon!
> 
> as always, come find me on [tumblr](https://bibliothesoph.tumblr.com/)


	6. Six (Henry)

As soon as he hangs up with Alex, he calls Shaan to get a car. There’s no time to waste––Alex needs him. Henry feels like a fool for letting things get this far––he never should have left him in the first place. For weeks now, Alex has been struggling. It’s been bad enough for Henry to notice, which is already saying something because Alex is scarily good at keeping health issues from him. So, as he shoves his clothes in his bag and gets David set in his carrier, Henry yells at himself for being so naive and optimistic. It’s his fault that Alex is in the hospital––it’s on him completely. He should have done something sooner. 

A few minutes later, he’s seated in the back of a car with Shaan at the wheel as they drive to the private airstrip to get Henry home as soon as possible. He’s a ball of nervous energy, unsure of what he should be doing right now. Should he call June? Nora? Ellen? Nothing seems like the right answer, not really. 

“You’ll be home soon, sir,” Shaan assures him from the front seat. 

Henry nods, his legs bouncing anxiously. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m just nervous.”

“I’m sure Mr. Claremont-Diaz will be fine, sir. You said it was a migraine?”

Henry nods again. 

“Zahra gets them quite frequently. They can be brutal, certainly, but it won’t last terribly long.”

“This one’s been going on for weeks, I think,” Henry sighs, looking out at the rainy city as it flies by his window. 

Shaan doesn’t say anything but Henry sees his knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. 

Thinking there’s a threat or something, Henry starts to panic a bit. “Shaan? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, sir.” 

“ _Shaan_.”

Shaan sighs and turns left. “It’s just peculiar, sir. I’ve never heard of a migraine lasting more than a few days.” 

Panic starts to bubble inside of him, making him feel sick to his stomach. Logically, he knows that the doctors who have looked at Alex probably know what they’re talking about, but he also trusts Shaan with his life. While Shaan might not be a doctor, he has a great wealth of knowledge about sickness and injury, as is needed in this line of work. But Henry doesn’t know what to say to that or what sorts of questions to ask, so he says nothing at all. 

The plane ride is long and tedious. June, bless her soul, texts Henry when she and Alex get home. 

**June**

Home safe!

I’m putting him to bed and 

making him drink lots of

fluids.

He sighs in relief, physically relaxing with the knowledge that Alex is safe, at home, and in bed. It’s not enough to set his mind completely at ease, but it helps a bit. Instead of picturing Alex alone and in a hospital bed somewhere, he can picture him with a grumpy face, under their cozy blankets, at June forces him to drink water. It’s an amusing image, honestly, because he knows firsthand how grumpy and adorable Alex gets when people try to take care of him when he’s sick. As payback for making him worry, Henry plans on making him soup and cuddling him endlessly when he gets home. 

When they finally pull up in front of the brownstone, Henry is more than eager to get inside and finally see his boyfriend. He hops out of the car before it’s come to a complete stop, not caring to wait around for an extra fucking second. He grabs David’s carrier and starts bounding up the stairs, hardly registering Shaan saying he’ll bring his bags inside in a moment. All he can think about is seeing Alex again so he can make sure he’s okay with his own two eyes. So he throws open the door and sets David’s carrier down on the ground and unzips it. As soon as it’s open, David yaps happily and sprints up the stairs, undoubtedly so he can greet Alex, too. 

“Alex?” Henry calls, unable to keep the smile off his face. “I’m home!”

He hears a shuffling upstairs––probably the sounds of Alex greeting David. 

But Alex doesn’t reply. Henry knows him well enough to know that he’s not sleeping, even though he likely should be. It’s odd, then, that Alex isn’t responding. Maybe Alex is upset that he came home early to look after him? He’s been acting a bit strange, admittedly, but not strange enough to still be cross with Henry all these hours later. Cautiously, Henry makes his way up the stairs as he prepares himself for the possibility that Alex won’t actually be happy to see him. 

When he gets to their room, the door is hardly open––just enough for David to get through. He opens it fully and steps into the room, searching for Alex on the bed. He’s not there, though, and only a bundle of messy blankets remain. A full glass of water on the bedside. He frowns at the sight and hears David whimper to his right. He turns his head and sees, in the dim light from the bathroom, Alex on the floor between the bathroom and the bedroom. Upon further inspection, he sees that Alex’s entire body is convulsing. 

Henry screams and rushes to his side, unsure of what to do. Alex’s eyes are open but unmoving, rolled back nearly entirely. With shaking hands, Henry gets Alex’s head in his lap and runs his fingers through Alex’s curls to soothe him, but it does nothing. “Alex?” he asks, voice breaking despite his efforts to stay strong. He has no idea what’s happening, but he’s fairly positive that this isn’t normal migraine territory. He’s terrified and alone and he has no idea what to do. What if…oh, _God_ , what if he loses Alex? What if this is where his world comes crumbling down all around him? 

In all his nightmares and delusions where his mind has conjured all sorts of horrible ways for Alex to leave him, it’s never been like _this_. It’s never been a quick, random death while they’re still happy––when they still have their plan hanging on the fridge. Now, when the possibility is staring him in the face, he finds himself drowning in it. His heart is breaking and aching in his chest and he wants to scream but he doesn’t know what he would say. He wants to pound his fists into the wall or shout loud enough for something to fucking _hear_ him. For someone to care and help him. 

“ _Shaan!_ ” he screams. The scream rips through his body, burning his throat as he cries out for help. It’s the loudest his voice has ever been––the most desperate plea that’s ever left his body. 

He hears Shaan bound up the stairs and, a moment later, Shaan is next to him on the floor and turning Alex on his side. Henry watches helplessly, still completely lost and terrified.

“How long has he been like this?” 

“I––What’s happening?”

“How _long_ , Henry?” 

Shaan’s never yelled at him before––it’s bloody terrifying. “I don’t know,” he sobs, “he was like this when I got here.”  
Shaan nods and looks down at his watch, shifting his gaze from his watch to Alex every few seconds.

After what feels like an eternity, the convulsing subsides. He sighs in relief, just now registering that there are tears falling freely down his cheeks and leaving salty trails in their wake. But Alex isn’t moving at all anymore, apart from the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. 

“What happened to him?” he asks Shaan, his voice hoarse and broken from screaming. 

“A seizure,” Shaan tells him, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “He’ll be fine, but we should get him to a hospital to find out what caused it. I’m going to make a call––you make sure he’s okay.” 

Henry nods helplessly and watches as Shaan steps into the hall. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Henry approaches Alex once more and tentatively brushes the curls from his forehead. The touch causes Alex to stir, his eyes blinking as he attempts to sit up. Henry shushes him softly, propping Alex up so his back is against Henry’s chest. 

“What happened?” 

“You had a…” the words get caught in his throat. He swallows the feeling down––it tastes like bile burning in the back of his throat. “A seizure.”

Alex’s face contorts in confusion, his brow scrunched. “I’m fine.”

He tries to get up but Henry wraps his arms around Alex’s waist, holding him down. While he doesn’t know much about seizures, he’s fairly positive that Alex shouldn’t be getting up and pacing like Henry knows he wants to. 

“You are decidedly _not_ fine,” Henry says, trying to keep the anger from rising in his voice. It’s not that he’s angry at Alex––he’s just angry at the world for almost taking Alex from him. And he’s angry with himself for not noticing that Alex needed help sooner. “Shaan is going to take us to the hospital.” 

“I don’t need a hospital,” Alex huffs. 

“Do you have any idea how scared I was?” Henry asks, his voice a broken whisper. “I thought––I thought I was going to _lose_ you, Alex. So, please, just go to the damn hospital.” 

Well, that shuts Alex up. 

When Shaan comes back in, Alex lets Henry carry him and he doesn’t say a single word––he doesn’t put up a fight at all. He lets Henry tuck him into the backseat and nuzzles into Henry’s side as Shaan drives them to the hospital where, hopefully, they’ll finally get some fucking answers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://bibliothesoph.tumblr.com/)


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